


Where I'm lacking.

by kaffefilter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Asexuality, Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:24:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaffefilter/pseuds/kaffefilter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel grows up different than his brother Jimmy. It doesn't bother him in the least, this lack of urge for other's touch and contact. He has spent his life complacent with his position outside the world of relationships and attachments. But promising his brother to take care of his baby daughter if something was to happen to him starts a ball rolling that he never saw coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An idea that came to me when I thought about how little fanficition I've read with Claire featured into it. I've fiddled with their ages here too, Sam being 17, while Dean is left vaguely 6-7 years older than him. Also, I hope my view on Cas's sexuality doesn't offend, it is but my imagination of how his asexuality could look like.

Castiel had always felt as if he was lacking compared to his brother. Where the feeling came from, he has no idea. But since they were kids, the 3 minutes separating them in time had always felt like a giant stretch of years. When Jimmy made friends with kids at school, Castiel was barely able to let go of their mother's leg. Jimmy was social and outgoing, smart to top it all off and people gathered around him from an early age. Castiel always sat in the back of the classroom, rarely going outside during break-time without the teacher's shooing him out, because he was so engulfed in his drawing or his reading.

Their mother had felt  their differences from the start and tried her best to let them become separate people, never dressing them in matching clothes and never arguing when Castiel decided he wanted his own birthday-party a day after his brother. They were never close like twins were supposed to be, but on the other hand they never argued either. Their separation from each other was a mutual deal, never spawning from hatred or bad blood, but from an acceptance of the other.

Until Jimmy turned 14 and brought his first girlfriend home, Castiel hadn't ever felt threatened by his brother. He had been happy in his bubble of a world, drowning in school and books and the few good friends he kept. But seeing his brother make such a big leap ahead of him startled himself into thinking. Maybe Jimmy was the one that came out right? Maybe his own interests and quirks were because he hadn't gotten as much of a personality as his brother? Questioning himself became his standard inner monologue. Had he been a more social child the change in him had probably been seen by everyone, but no one knew to look for this one. In school he grew even quieter, not even having the sure confidence about his scholarly abilities anymore and his grades slipped ever so slowly down into mediocrity. His brother graduated top of his class.

They made sure to go to different colleges, still not because they wanted to be apart, but to make sure they weren't treated as a unit. As much as Castiel's grades had slipped, he had never had any will to go to the big schools. Social interaction was always a bit tough on him, grating on his nerves and he needed his space. Settling for a local college with a good arts-program, he hugged Jimmy goodbye as his brother flew off to Florida. They both knew they would call each other, keep up to date with each other over facebook when school ate their time, but it would just be because that was what you did as siblings and their mother would worry otherwise. She always worried about them anyway. Especially about Castiel, as he had yet to hit the same milestones as Jimmy had done years before him. There were never any playdates over at friends houses, no sleepovers and no girlfriends to take home.

Their mother was kind - Castiel blessed her for that - and her prying for any reasons behind his lack of social life came in waves. First she tried talking to him herself, but he didn't know why he didn't crave people's attention like his brother did and telling her that only seemed to furrow her worried brows even more. He just didn't see the necessity for people he didn't like to like him. The friends he had he knew perfectly well how to laugh and have fun with, that was enough. When his lack of relationships became her focus of questioning it got a bit harder. There were a few psychiatrists, psychologists and even a doctor's appointment, before she backed off for a time when whatever results from the doctors didn't end up a conclusive answer.

That didn't stop her from picking all the old worries back up when Jimmy decided to bring his latest girlfriend home over the holidays. They seemed serious, Jimmy and Amelia. And happy. Their hands rested entwined on the table almost all through dinner, and they appeared glued to each other's side through the entire week. Castiel was happy for them, he enjoyed seeing his brother in this rosy sort of calm that a good relationship seemed to bring to people. But the urge wasn't there to search for it himself. After another charade from his mother of wanting to hint at him finding someone of his own, and at the same time not trying to talk about it, he asked her to speak her mind.

 She tried to gently explain how she accepted him as he was, no matter who he decided to bring home, in some hope that he was only uncomfortable with her view on his sexuality. Whichever way he swayed, she would support him. Truth was Castiel had never given it much thought. No one had ever given him that urge to have them as his own. His friends were really good friends and he loved them for who they were, but that feeling of wanting more had never existed. Hell, he hadn't even felt the pull pornography seemed to have on boys his age. But his mother didn't need to know he was sexually non-interested, so he shrugged at her attempts to pry something out of him. Tried to guilt her insistent questions off a bit by quoting her back to herself when her pushing became insistent; "what happened to accepting me as I am, mother?"

 

College was greater than he thought it would be. For the first time he was allowed to be the weird kid in the back of the class without question. He was allowed, even encouraged to doodle on his notes. And the persistent voice he'd grown used to in his head, reminding him about his inadequacy, had slowly silenced when praise fell from his professors' lips and built him back up. 3 years flew by in a haze of painting, reading and working so hard on his grades he actually got a reference from one of his professors to a local curatorship. Castiel found himself both strong and willing enough to plunge headfirst into the unknown work. It didn't take him long to feel at ease in the museum. His managing-skills were lacking, but thankfully he didn't have to many people to boss over. He rather spent his time cataloguing in the basement, feeling safe around the musty smell of paper and ancient paint. For once he wasn't feeling pushed by society or his family to be something else, he was just fine where he was.

Until he found a white, padded envelope shining up at him through the darkness of his mailbox.

 

*

 

"Cassie, it's 4 months away!"

"I can't do it Jimmy!"

"Yes, you can."

Castiel had read the invitation to his brother's wedding so many times he knew it by heart now. It didn't lessen his worry about it all in any way. He was still going to be pulled from the sanctuary he had found in his work and his friends and back into a world he didn't belong in. Where he had to be polite, had to hide his imperfections and answer questions when it would be "his turn to tie the knot" from people he barely knew and much less cared about.

"Look. I sent you the invitation way ahead of everyone else's because I know you need to get comfortable with it. I won't force you, but I want you here. You're my brother and it's my wedding."

Castiel groaned and leaned his forehead against the cold wood of his desk. His nose bent under the pressure and his voice sounded nasal when he spoke again.

"I'm not making a speech."

"No problem. No best-man speech, I promise."

They both waited the other out for a definite answer, silent over the phone because silence had never been a problem between them. As much as they were never alike, Jimmy understood his twin's anxieties and he had learned that pushing got him nowhere. Instead there was space and rules he didn't mind following.

"I'll just ruin it -"

"Stop it Cassie. Bring a friend and drink the night away, or don't, whichever you prefer, but I want you there. _We_ want you there. You'll ruin nothing."

Sighing was a tough thing to do hunched over, especially with his mouth and nose pressed so hard into a flat surface he could feel his coffee-tinged breath fly straight up into his nose. 

"Fine. I'll be there."

 

*

 

It was beautiful, in the traditional sense that he didn't quite take to himself, but still beautiful. Castiel tried to look past the hundred something people milling about the venue and focus on the things he could care about and appreciate. The architecture of the old mansion was impressive, 18th century by the look of it, he only wished they hadn't removed the old decor inside though, it was a shame on original pieces.

"Castiel."

Swinging around on his heel from where he was tracing a window-sill with a light touch, far away in thought, Amelia stood behind him. The billowing fabric of her wedding gown another beautiful thing he wasn't sure how to appreciate. It was good craftsmanship, the artist in him supplied. The way pearls and beads snaked their way up from the hem of her skirt to the tight corset of the bodice and settled right at the cut of her cleavage. He tried to find her more appealing than when he usually saw her, but she was just the same, just differently dressed.

"Amelia. Congratulations."

Her smile was kind, he had liked that about her. So many people shot others smiles that meant nothing and faked their way through a life that was supposed to be cherished and not lied to. Sometimes he felt like a liar too.

"Thank you. And you know, thank you for coming, I know it's way out of your comfort zone to even be around this much people."

Castiel didn't bother shrugging or brushing the worry off, it had been a hard thing to do. And he had hated every minute he had to spend at table number 3, surrounded by people he barely knew and his mother who kept up trying to poke him into some kind of direction.

But he didn't hate his brother, he didn't want to bring sadness to a day that was supposed to be his happiest. Seeing him and Amelia still glued to each other's side four years down the road, he felt happy for them. There was no way he could understand why you would want another person that close to you, especially not for the rest of your life, but he could see their choice made them happy. And any kind of happiness was good. His own came from things foreign to others, who was he to say what was foreign to him wasn't right?

"No need to worry about me, Amelia. Hasn't the dancing started yet?" He knew it was a cheap change of topic, but he wanted to go outside and drink in some calming summer air.

"Maybe it has." Amelia's thin-fingered hand, the right one with the oval-cut diamond on her ring-finger, came to rest on his shoulder. Castiel didn't like being touched but her  hand was warm and it didn't crave anything from him in return. It was easy to let her.

"I'm glad you came. And so is Jimmy. We're - We're thinking about moving back, buying a house in Illinois."

"Oh"

"And I hope that you won't say no to all my attempts to bring you to our family-dinners." Amelia's hand squeezed his shoulder, her smile saying she was joking but her voice hid a question in there somewhere, and he didn't want to disappoint her.

"Just every other one."

"Deal"

 

*

 

"No." In horror he had dropped the spoon he was using straight down into his tomato-soup. Amelia had invited him over last week, dangling a three-course dinner in front of him like a carrot to a horse. Of course it had to come with a consequence.

"Castiel, I  -"

"You can't give me that kind of responsibility, Jim!"

"It's just a precaution. Nothing will actually happen, it's just that we don't want Claire to end up with strangers in case something does. Which it won't."

"What about mom? About Amelia's family? Friends, Neighbours! Someone must be better than me!"

"Cassie, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Castiel's heart was racing, his head felt the lack of oxygen like a wet blanket had been thrown on top of him. He wished he could say yes, that was what you did for your siblings, but it was too much. His life consisted of work and sleep, where was he supposed to house a baby girl between those things?

Jimmy held his tongue, waited his brother's panic out before he continued.

"She will go to mom first and foremost. But mom's in her sixties, Cassie, in case something happens to her you're the next of kin. Amelia's family is... complicated. We talked about it and we don't want them raising her."

"And I am the next most logical choice? Have you lost your mind?"

"No, I know you better than anyone. If you get yourself over the panic, you'd be great with her. You have been so far."

He wasn't wrong. Castiel had found himself absolutely hating the first year living as close as he did to his brother and his family now, with all the diaper-changes they tried to make him do, and the screaming and the amount of sleep they all lost from worry when she got colic. But Claire was the first being he could look at and feel "Yes, she's beautiful". His heart swam with feeling when he first saw her waddle tiny, unsteady legs over to his chair during dinner and smile a gap-toothed grin up at him. It scared him that he loved her, that he wanted to shower her with every knowledge he had about the world and give her everything she asked for despite knowing it would make her the biggest brat.

But taking care of her 24/7? Being the only person she could depend on? God, nothing had scared him like the thought of that.

"Just - Think about it okay? It's not something we have to get down on paper now, it's just a precaution for the marginal event that something does happen to the both of us. The chances are ridiculously small, you know? We just want to feel safe."

 

*

 

Castiel learned early that life wasn't safe.

 

*

 

"Claire!" It was the third time he'd had to shout his nieces name from the hallway and his patience was wearing thin. It was the same thing every morning, no matter how early he set her alarm clock she found some way to be late anyway. He very well knew how much appearances mattered to girls her age, but that it would take 45 minutes was beyond his realm of understanding.

"Yeah, yeah, calm down, I'm coming."

Castiel held the front door open, his mug of coffee balanced on top of his briefcase and keys jiggling in his other hand because he was far too nervous to hold them steady. Claire seemed to radiate a chill calm as she took the staircase two steps at a time, threw her backpack across one shoulder and walked past him in the doorway as if the stress of being late wasn't getting to her at all.

Castiel never much liked female perfumes, they stung his nose with their chemical scents, but the waft of Claire's that trailed behind her smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, and he knew it was the same her mother had worn. It reminded him of home and of security and why he was enduring the same frustrating procedure every morning. No matter how nervous and out of place he felt, he had to step up and be in control of himself because someone else needed him. Someone that was much more important than he could ever be.

"Now you're the one daydreaming. Come on!"

The slam of a car-door closing brought Castiel out of his thoughts. Right. Claire had to be taken to school, he had work to go to. A new job. A new school. Every day had been a constant addition to his rising levels of fear, but he hadn't been allowed to freak out about it. He actually hadn't allowed himself to freak out about anything for the last year and a half. Not since they decided to move from Pontiac.

The house had been gloomy, full of memories none of them was  comfortable being reminded of, and a constant waiting for something that wasn't going to happen held them both in its grip. Jimmy and Amelia weren't going to come back, but the silence left behind from their deaths was impossible to comprehend as final.

 Castiel felt awkward in the quiet of a house he was used to being filled with roaring laughter and calm conversation. Every morning he woke up in a bed that wasn't his, in a house that still waited for its real owners return and the horrible knowledge of how it was never going to happen weighing on his shoulders. Claire hadn't fared much better. Her room became her haven she rarely ventured out of. Every attempt they made to try and heal was stunted by the pictures and the memories. But Castiel hadn't much thought of any other solutions, he didn't know how to be the one making the decisions for someone else. He'd only ever had himself to control and worry about, so it was she that ordered that something had to change.

And change he did, although it pulled painfully at every part of his own persona to up and leave a job he loved and the only place he had ever called home. For her he could pull through it, he had to.

Lawrence hadn't been an obvious choice, he hadn't even meant to move across state lines, just find them a place far enough away from everything that had been secure and now felt smothering. But after a talk with his boss there wasn't much choice.

"This curatorship would be perfect for you, Castiel. We're sorry to see you go, but your circumstances... I understand." A card of a doctor he had never heard of was pressed into his shaking hand, letters jumped across the white surface and it took him the ride home and a glass of wine before he could even take it out of his pocket. He'd let Claire read it first.

"Dr. Shirley?"

Castiel had nodded and spun the glass in his hand, swirling red liquid around until it threatened to tip over the edge of the glass. She seemed amused by the man's last name, and if he hadn't been so on edge he'd had scolded her for making fun of someone.

"Lawrence, Kansas." Claire didn't ask, just stated the obvious. He nodded again and willed himself to look up at his niece, looking to see what she thought of the idea, because this wasn't in his hands no matter how much he was her guardian now, it was her decision to make. Her life to decide about.

"It's as good as anywhere, right?"

 

*

 

"Uncle Cas, seriously? I can get to a math-class on my own, you know? I know where it is, I've been here for a week."

It wasn't her first day at the school, but it was his. He hadn't been able to make it until now, his own meetings with his new boss and the introduction to a whole new workplace had taken him the good start of the week. Thankfully Claire took to her first week of high-school with all the courage and ease he'd never had . It was in a place like this one he had found himself differing from the general masses, hitting a point where he started measuring himself up to his brother and to everyone else and found he was lacking. Well into his 30's now with a steady job and someone else depending on him for life, the feeling was still hard to shake when he felt thrown back into the past. The insecurity was still there, as was the lack of urges that had stunted his confidence, but he had learned to control it. Conceal it behind a smiling mask he could put up whenever he needed it.

"I just want to talk to your home-room teacher."

"God, don't tell her anything embarrassing."

"Like how you sing in the shower?"

"Pfft, I sing like an angel. That the best you got old man?"

Castiel shrugged his shoulders but couldn't help the crack in his lips that wanted to smile at her.

"You do know the amount of ammunition I have on you is endless? I used to change your diapers."

Claire scrunched up her nose, grossed out by the turn of conversation.

"Ew. Good one."

Claire smiled and Castiel couldn't help laughing at the comfortable banter they still managed to stick too, despite how it had started as harsh words to each other when they were both still hurting with loss. He was about to say something more when Claire's name was called from the row of lockers up ahead.

"Claire!"

Castiel felt a sudden rush of fear again, wanted to clutch onto his niece's arm and not let her go, but if she had already made friends he was supposed to be happy for her. Right? Part of being a parent was letting them grow and not push your own convictions onto them. God, this day was not a good one for his self-esteem. All he could think about doing is sneak right back out and bury himself in work. Or the new down-covers he'd bought for his bed.

"Hey Sam."

This Sam didn't help him feeling any more secure in the situation at all. He looked nice enough, tall enough to tower over Castiel by a good amount of inches, but held himself in a manner that he didn't seem to realize his intimidating size just yet. There was never a moment where he had been good at judging the looks of other people, he merely saw them as they were, but Claire seemed more than appreciative at the boys appearance.

A wide hand the size of a plate suddenly shot out into his own space, and he took it, shaking it firm like he'd taught himself to not betray how his hands usually shook and trembled with strangers around.

"Sam" The boy said, releasing his hand and going back to the awkward look that seemed to be his normal state. "You must be Castiel."

"Yes, I'm Claire's  - "

"Uncle, she told me."

"Sam is a senior, he was tasked with showing me around the first couple of days, so yeah, he's the one responsible for me and my shenanigans when you're not around." Claire seemed the most comfortable in the situation between the three of them, but she had always had that sure calm in herself that Jimmy always had.

"Well that's good." Was all he could muster, he didn't much like random turn of events, and all he wanted was to head for the teacher's lounge and set to talk to the people he had planned to talk to. Everything beyond that was distracting and raised his levels of frustration all the much more.

"Yeah, peachy. Now can you go so he can do his appointed job?"

Sam's eyes shot up wide at the tone of her voice, the boy clearly wasn't one to disrespect his elders, but Castiel took her with stride as he'd learned to do. He knew Jimmy wouldn't have liked him stifling her spark, like Castiel had done to himself, so he let her, encouraged the sass because it reminded him that the people they missed were still much alive in their child.

"Just show me where the teacher's lounge is and I won't embarrass you any further ."

"Down the hall, to the left, first door. Bye!"

Claire waved a hand in some kind of explanation, but then took the giant boy by the arm and steered off in another direction. Castiel shook his head. Of course she had found friends already, she was everything her father had been and more. Himself, he found it scary that he was supposed to be the one sifting them out, allowing some and make the decision whom she wasn't allowed to be around. He'd never had that problem, he'd found his friends on a basis of their personalities and had never let himself be influenced by the few bad eggs he had let slip in. But it was better to not let a lot of them come too close, control was best held with simplicity.  
What the hell did she mean to the left? There was nothing but classrooms here. He dreaded having to ask someone for directions.

A door flew up, just shy of brushing his hand holding his rapidly cooling coffee, and someone much looking like a teacher walked out.

"Excuse me, the teacher's lounge?" He asked before the person had time to wander off.

"Oh, in here. Haven't had time to change the signs." The woman held the door open with an apologetic smile, gesturing inside

Castiel walked inside, settled his stomach that apparently was protesting the prolonged stress of the day, and headed for the office of one C. Bradbury. He prayed to god it turned out to be a tolerable human being.

 

*

 

It felt like he had just been there, dropping her off, when he found himself back at the school ready to pick her up again. Hiding sensitive eyes behind his sepia-tinted sunglasses, he begged the sparking migraine that had been creeping up on him to calm down enough to make the drive home. This new job was nothing like the relaxing one he'd had before, the museum's system was different, all digitalized and with enough codes and prompts before you could access anything it took Castiel half the day to just get his log-in working properly. The IT-tech who's supposed purpose was to help him had been nothing short of the most annoying man he'd ever met, and all he wanted to do now was make it through the drive home and crash on the couch. Moments like this he truly hated other people, despite knowing fault lay on his end and not theirs. He couldn't fake another moment if he had to, he didn't even dare strike up a conversation with any of the other parents waiting by their cars for their children, just like he was. Instead he sat in the comfort of his old Ford, reveling in the calm.

Of course he never got what he wanted.

As soon as people started pouring out, Claire's blond mass of hair caught his eye. Finding her in a crowd hadn't taken Castiel long to learn. In a matter of months since she had come into his care he'd developed a parent-like feel for picking her out by her gait or sound alone. That the tall, long-haired senior she'd introduced him to earlier that morning still let her cling to his arm flared another parental instinct. Who was he to know if that was appropriate? To himself that kind of closeness was an unknown field he'd never played. God, he wished he'd read more parenting books.

Castiel stepped out of his car, into the bright afternoon sun and the sudden burst of people talking and shouting atop each other.

Claire's hand was still on the boy's arm. As they came closer he could see her fingers flex and dig into the muscle of his forearm, but Sam smiled right back at her. Instead of feeling that rush of need to protect like he had before, his mind pondered if it felt good. Having someone that close, holding on to you like you're so important you can't be let go.

"Ah, my favourite uncle!" Claire shot him a full blown smile and grinned a bit too wide to be anything but a start to some kind of question she very much wanted him to say yes to. Castiel smiled despite his wicked headache.

"You mean your favourite but now highly suspicious uncle?"

"Ouch, busted. Now we're gonna have to grovel if we want a yes."

Sam chuckled next to her, looking nothing shy of embarrassed but it was him that spoke next.

"If it's okay with you Mr. Novak I'd like to tutor Claire so she'd be able to take some advanced classes."

"Just once or twice a week, a few hours. Please?"

Castiel's instincts were to say an instant no, because that's what his own brain thought of the idea of welcoming someone into their home whom he didn't know at all. He would feel uncomfortable every moment Sam came over, not because he didn't trust Claire but because it threatened his one place of comfort. This boy could be anyone, want anything from them that they weren't happy to give, but he knew it was his own frustrating voice talking nonsense.

They surely just wanted every reason to spend time together. Being different years they probably only got lunch or the odd break to meet. What would Jimmy had done? Or Amelia?

"Once a week. A few hours. Living-room or the door of your room open."

"Wh - Yeah, deal!"

Claire tried to hide the little jump her body wanted to do in celebration, smiling at Sam and then back at Castiel.

"Can once a week be today?"

He was about to start arguing his point for today being a bad first day, his head was killing him and he didn't feel well enough to keep the charade up of being a good host and at the same time keep an eye on them, but he was interrupted before he could even begin.

"Ey! Sammy!"

All their eyes flew to the man shouting the boy's name. Slamming the door of a black, shiny car Castiel could vaguely remember seeing the other times he'd come to pick Claire up from school, he walked over in large strides. It wasn't hard to miss. The car was an older model, but polished and taken care of, much unlike his own rusty heap that somehow still kept starting. Where Castiel blended in, this man stood out and didn't seem to mind it at all.

"Hey, Dean."

A moment of quiet lay over the four of them as they took in the new unit of their conversation.

The man nodded his head towards Claire. "So this is your protégé, huh?"

"Dean - "

"Watch it kiddo, his math skills are contagious."

Claire didn't seem fazed, hurling a comeback straight back at the man. "Yeah, they better be."

Dean then stuck out a hand almost the size of Sam's towards Castiel and he took it in his own, shaking just the right amount he taught himself was appropriate. But it was nothing like any other handshake. Dean's hand was firm, callus-hardened fingertips and palm cupping his own in a way that didn't feel as if it was appropriate for the wide open space of a street. He felt caressed and  Castiel wasn't used to so much emotion being passed through something so little. Somehow the uncomfortable feeling he always got when people touched him didn't rear its head this time. When their hands separated, falling back to their sides, he could still feel the warmth blossoming on his skin. It stunned him completely.

"I'm Dean, Sam here's my little brother."

"Oh - I - um." Despite what kind of situation he was put in, Castiel prided himself in being able to talk himself through it. He had practiced all his way through high-school and college to be able to speak in front of anyone, hiding his insecurities behind a stern-looking mask until he didn't need to pretend anymore. It had been long since he ever had to worry about getting tongue-tied. Bored or unwilling to speak perhaps, but unable to because of nerves? Hadn't happened since his teens.

"Castiel." He finally managed to say. "Novak."

Dean nodded, smiling with just one corner of his lips. The man was probably amused by his vocal stumble. But what the other man felt about him wasn't supposed to affect him. At least he hadn't ever let it happen before. Some cocky man with a flashy car, he'd seen them by the dozens. But Dean's handshake, the gentle ease with which he spoke to Claire, something about it made him hard to read and even harder to dismiss.

"So, can we?"

Claire's question snapped Castiel back out from frustrated thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Tutoring, at home, can we go?"

"Oh. Uhm." Castiel tried to remember why he was supposed to say no, something about a migraine that seemed to have flown out the window and a day that had worked him dead tired. Dean looked from the hopeful faces of the kids and then back to him, unaware of their earlier conversation. It was hard thinking under that gaze, but he wasn't annoyed by it. Flustered perhaps? But he never got flustered. Not even when the occasional girl had tried to hit on him, singing praises to his blue eyes, was it hard to let them know just how much he wasn't interested in taking them home. And here Dean hadn't said more than a few words.

"Sounds like a great idea. Me and Mr. Novak can have a cup of coffee, talk over your heads and plan your future wedding."

"Dean!" Sam tried to elbow his older brother, the few inches he was taller gave him enough leverage for it to actually punch a breath out of him. Dean looked offended and pushed his brother right back. Then he was grinning that half-way smile again, motioning his brother towards their car and turned back to Castiel again.

"If that's okay, Mr. Novak?"

"Y-Yeah, I'll drive ahead."

 

*

 

Counting out the right amount of ground coffee under his breath, Castiel tried to perk his ears enough to hear up the stairs and into Claire's room. He wasn't really worried about his niece's wellbeing, she knew how to stand up for herself and could make the choices she felt were the right ones. She was raised to have common sense and respect for herself, but maybe he gave in to her strong will a bit too much? Often he found himself being steered by her and not the other way around. Regardless, Sam seemed a gentleman for his age, there probably wasn't any kind of reason to checking up on them regularly. It had felt better to have them at the table in the kitchen though. Right now he felt like buckling under the tension of the room. Dean's eyes were on him, he knew it because he could almost physically feel them looking. At no point in his life had he been affected by someone's gaze judging him, he didn't like allowing other people to get into his head. But Dean was in it, stumbling around, poking at parts he'd buried or never even  used before.

"Need any help?"

Castiel jumped at Dean's voice and cursed under his breath when the scoop he was measuring with took a tumble across the counter. Ground coffee spread across the white marble top and he completely lost count of how many cups he'd added to the machine.

Dean's laugh rumbled close behind him, a large hand gathered the measuring cup and added another two scoops before closing the compartment.

"I - Thank you."

The other man stood so close he could feel the faint trace of after-shave in the air. Castiel wanted to inhale it deeper into his chest, but even he knew scenting someone you just met would only add to the weird impression he must already give off. Wiping down the counter, chasing odd pieces of coffee around until the surface was spotless again gave him back some amount of control. He could talk like a normal human being with this one man if he could handle ordering around a whole team at work. Couldn't he?

Coffee-machine dripping away in the background, Castiel found them each a cup and set them down at the kitchen table. Their kitchen was easily much smaller than the one they had left behind in Pontiac, but it was quaint in its simplicity. Just large enough to hold a few people, their 4-seat dining set and still leave some room to walk around the counters. Dean had sat back down in the seat across from Castiel, waiting patiently to be served the coffee they'd agreed on having while the kids hung out upstairs.

"Do you want anything in yours? Milk, sugar?"

"No, black's fine." Dean shook his head, wrapping his hands around the still empty cup in front of him. Those hands again. Castiel could remember how they felt when they shook his, gentle despite the size of them. His own were wiry;  thin and long like they were supposed to play the piano, but his brain never understood the makings of music. Instead they wished to paint, sculpt, make things from nothing and appreciate that which was already made.

Before he sat down across from the other man, he made a beeline for the fridge, getting out his own preference to put in his coffee.

" _Almond_ milk?"

 "Yes" Castiel answered firm to Dean's sceptical look. "There is no need for adults to drink regular milk, and Claire is lactose-intolerant."

"Man, sounds like something Sammy'd drink." Dean took the carton out of Castiel's hand and read the back label."Yeah, he'd probably love this stuff. Always on about healthy-living and chewing me out for not buying organic vegetables."

"He is right."

"Oh come on, a cucumber isn't going to be that much greater just by costing twice the money!"

"It's not just the taste, Dean. It's about providing a sustainable choice. All through the line of production, ecological products helps to prevent -"

"I know, I know. I get the lecture every time." Dean was suddenly laughing, waving his hand in a sign of submission.

Castiel smiled back, a bit sheepish that he'd argued so blatantly and silence fell between them, but it felt less tense now. As if laughing had broken through some boundary.

Dripping from the coffee-machine made up the closest background-noise, a low buzz of voices drifting downstairs from the kids could be heard if you really strained to look for it. Dean still smiled, looking down into his empty cup. Castiel found himself studying the man, from the gelled up hair to the thin scar shining white across the bridge of his nose, he couldn't quite understand why he even wanted to look him over. No one else had ever been as hard to put a mental picture to. His brain wanted to keep cataloguing. Eyes that hid a variety of greens, a hint of ginger facial hair that grazed his chin and freckles on top of a slight sunburn, which he could see now that Dean had taken off the heavy leather jacket and sat in but a t-shirt and thread-worn jeans. It was alien for him to look at someone without a proper reason for doing it. But hell, he probably wasn't even able to stop if he was prompted. Dean could look up and meet his gaze and he wouldn't be able to look away. Some side of him wished that he _would_ look up. Not that he knew what that would have meant or what staring at someone could lead to. Castiel had seen love growing in other people's eyes, but his own had never shown that much emotion. He'd never even known that much emotion, beyond the responsibility and care he held for Claire and perhaps his closest family.

But Dean, sitting at his kitchen table, spinning his cup between his hands had Castiel's insides craving something. Was that what people felt when they felt attraction towards someone? A craving? The only thing he'd ever craved like this was food, sleep, perhaps work to some extent. A purpose, maybe, more than work. He had always enjoyed the time he'd spent with his friends, but he could be just as satisfied on his own. Now, thinking about Dean leaving twisted his stomach. It felt nothing like people said it would feel like, there was no "fluttering of butterfly-wings" so he was probably in the wrong. Either way, feelings or not, he'd never make a move towards reaching for it. It was easier to stay the way he was, content and happy with the knowledge of being a bystander to that part of life.

"So you're her uncle?"

Stumped for a second, Castiel found words again when Dean looked up.

"Yes. Her parents, they - It was a car-accident. Our mother was supposed to be her care-taker, but she has such bad arthritis it wouldn't have worked."

"Ah" Dean nodded "Yeah, me and Sam are on our own too, so I get it. It's hard raising them, but what's the other option?"

"You're his guardian?"

"Yeah, mom died when he was just a few months, so it's just been me and dad." Shrugging as if it was no greater pain than a mosquito-bite that had long stopped itching, he added "And now it's just me."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, no, don't be. He's still around somewhere, but he's not all right in the head-department since he lost mom. Drinks like a sailor, fights like one too. Soon as I could, I filed for custody."

Castiel let himself be impressed by Dean's conviction. Still this strong after such tragedy and hellbent on taking care of a brother that couldn't be that many years younger than himself. His own plight over taking in Claire felt small and the nights he'd lay awake obsessing over his lacking skills as a parent were suddenly not just irrelevant, but felt overly dramatic. The ping of the coffee-machine signalling the end of its cycle halted the conversation. Castiel held his hand out for Dean's mug, filling them almost to the brim with the black, bitter liquid and settled back down on his chair again.

It felt good. Like old friends felt, familiar, still with the weird urge in the back of his head, but not the same jumpy feeling he'd had before. They had a shared pain in common, and wasn't that one of those things that made you extra sympathetic towards someone? Maybe that was what he was feeling? His stomach seemed to disagree.

Steam rose from Dean's cup and he kept blowing on the surface until he evidently felt it suitable enough to have a sip. Castiel made his coffee fairly strong, liked the way the bitterness held strong despite the amount of milk he poured into it. Dean didn't seem to mind. He had been the one adding the last two scoops anyway.

Castiel was mulling over conversation-starters in his head - because when did he not overthink things? - when Dean picked up where they'd left off. He told him about the house-fire when he was just a  few years old himself, and Sam was thrust into his arms to take care of as his father ran back inside. Pain laced Dean's voice when his mother's name was brought up, but he told of how that's when he knew his brother had been his responsibility. And Castiel listened, nodded not because he had to, but because he understood how hard it was to have that kind of title forced upon you.

And he told Dean how hard it had been for him to just _sign_ the papers his brother begged him to sign, all those years ago. How having to suddenly become the selfless saviour to a child was the hardest thing he'd ever done, when all he wanted to do was wallow in the emptiness his brother left behind. Dean in turn nodded and understood too. Their coffee grew cold in their mugs, but their conversation felt warm and light-hearted, despite the heavy subjects they breached. Somewhere in the living room, beyond two sets of doors the heavy grand-father clock that had been Amelia's rang 8 times and silenced, but none of them heard it.

Until the kids came stampeding down the stairs, grins on their faces and drowned them both in wishes for allowing them to go to Sam's house next time, time seemed irrelevant. It was already dark outside and the early September-sun didn't leave much heat after it hid behind the horizon. Claire walked Sam to the car, leaving Dean and Castiel on their own in the hallway.

Dean put on his boots in silence, not bothering with the laces.

Castiel had to ask. Nowhere was he sure of what the feeling he was having really was, but it seemed like it agreed with the question. It agreed with Dean's presence just being there, talking, and he couldn't imagine what it would say if there would be more than that, but some part of him wanted to know. It didn't feel wrong like all the other times the opportunity had reared its head, and what was the harm in feeding into it if it felt good? His will for control seemed to be alright taking a back-seat for a moment.

"Dean"

"Mm?" Shrugging his leather jacket on, Dean turned in the doorway and adjusted the crooked collar. Castiel almost got stuck eyeing the man's fingers smoothing the rough fabric out around his neck.

"Could we have coffee again?"

"Yeah, sure, next time you bring Claire by I'll - "

"No, I mean..."

Dean seemed to understand, his eyes widened and his hands stilled on the zipper dangling loose at the end of his jacket.

"Oh, you mean have coffee like " _have coffee"."_

Castiel nodded, hoping maybe a bit too hard for a good answer. Whatever Dean answered, he knew it would be fine, he wasn't well versed in the goings on of romance but he liked Dean, and if friendship was what he got out of their meeting today  it would be fully enough. It would just be a nice change to entertain this feeling in his chest. So maybe he let hope spark inside him somewhere and ignored the usual voice telling him to pull back.

Dean's full smile, both corners of his lips tugged upwards, the white row of perfect teeth just showing underneath pink lips, finally was the thing that summoned the butterflies. It felt like they wanted to burst out and fly him closer, keep them shrouded in their colourful visage and drown out the world to nothing but this feeling.

"Sure, Cas. I'd love to."


	2. Chapter 2

*

 

Castiel turned off the burner on the stove and put the last pan on the table. Looking out over the perfectly laid placing he wiped his hands on his apron and eased in a breath of calm. It wasn't often he managed to get home before Claire, and even more of a rare occurrence that he managed to have dinner ready by the time she'd made the 20 minute walk home. He liked doing it for her though, it felt like nostalgia. The family sitting down together at a table, gathered and happy. Amelia had usually managed to pull him over for dinner at least once a week when she and Jimmy were still with them. Today he felt like he was channelling her.

 It wasn't Sunday, just a measly, rainy Tuesday, but the roast he'd nurtured in the oven was a recipe Amelia saved for every time they managed to come together for a holiday. Castiel even managed to get her gravy exactly right, which hopefully made up for the slightly greasy potatoes. It annoyed him greatly that he got those wrong and he couldn't help himself from stirring the pan on the table, just to see if they looked any better on the other side.

Between flipping the potatoes and worrying about how they tasted, the front door opened so silently he almost missed it. Though the heavy thud of a bag full of books hitting the floor told him Claire had arrived home safely again. Smile on his face, he couldn't help feeling proud of himself for the surprise. He could already imagine the shocked look on her face when she came in, her bright and blue eyes wide with recognition. Hopefully she would take it well and dig in with all the hunger Castiel had learned teenagers harboured when they grew. And maybe that meant she wouldn't mind when he told her what he'd planned to tell her for the last couple of days.

Dean thought they shouldn't tell the kids yet, but Castiel hated lying to Claire. However things turned out after his first planned date with Dean on Friday, Claire had to stay his top priority. Keeping something as serious as a relationship from her left him uneasy about it all, especially since he'd rather wanted her on his side on this. Alone he was confused and unsure about where he dared it all to go. If Claire was okay with them dating, he imagined he could let himself indulge in his newly found feelings without worry. If she was her usual self about it, maybe it meant he could be too.

But there was no loud hollering from the hall like usual. None of the usual fountain of words Claire always spewed out when she came home from school and had so much to tell about her day Castiel actually had to tune her out sometimes to keep his sanity . She didn't saunter in chewing gum like he hated, just to push his buttons either. There was just another loud bang of something hitting the metal of their cast iron shoe rack and then muttered cursing.

Castiel dropped the spatula he was holding, suddenly not at all worried about potatoes.

In the dark of their hallway he found Claire hunched over on the floor. Barely visible, she was a black outline in the dim light. But he could see how one shoe had made it off her feet while the other hung halfway off her foot, laces on her boot still too tight to pull off.

"Claire?"

A low whine came from her doubled over form, muffled because her back was to him. As his eyes relaxed and got used to the dim light of the room he noticed her shoulders were shaking minutely. Castiel hadn't seen his niece cry for a long time, the last time he could remember was back in Pontiac, where he'd found her packing away her mother's clothes with silent tears in her eyes. Something must have happened. Claire was prone to bursts of intensity, easy to anger but just as quick to forgive and forget. Always a whirlwind when it came to emotions, just like her father. But for her to cry and show this kind of vulnerability, there was no doubt to something serious happening.

Comforting someone had never been one of Castiel's strong sides, but there wasn't any choice here. He had known that there were a lot of things he would have to work around when they lost their loved ones, and being the strong one when it counted fell on his shoulders. Kneeling down behind her, he put a hand on her bowed back, unsure if his touch was allowed or if he was going to get shrugged off.

The touch gave no sign of disturbing her further, so he dared move his hand. The soft mewling Claire had been letting slip out between her teeth turned into open-mouthed sobs the instant his hand started rubbing her back. Some parts of him screamed with insecurity, begging him to pull back, that he didn't know how to handle the situation. Other parts knew exactly what to do.

Castiel brought his arms up around her, pulling her out of her uncomfortable-looking crouch to lie back against his chest. He let her burrow her head into the stiff fabric of his dress shirt, feeling her tears stain the light fabric wet and dark, the thick mucus in her nose making her sobs nasal and muffled.

He didn't know what to say, couldn't find the right words for fear of them being the completely wrong thing and making the situation worse. Castiel had never needed anyone else to get over his losses and pain. But that didn't mean he was in the right. Since Claire had become his only family left, he had felt himself starting to crave her presence even when he was feeling worn thin. It tugged at his heart now to hear his niece's tiny voice speak with tears clogging up her nose and he wanted to soothe and to make better.

"I hate these shoes."

Castiel was too frightened to laugh, although he wanted to.

"I can see that."

For a long while, there came no other explanation. Just rivers of more tears that soaked wet patches into his chest. Neither of them made any motion to move from their spot on the floor. The darkness around them grew thicker as the sky darkened outside, cutting off the only light making it into the room from the tiny window in the front door. Off and on Claire sniffled and stopped crying, only to start again soon enough. Castiel's legs had been asleep for so long he could barely feel their tingling anymore, but he would stay. As long as she needed it, he would be there.

When another bout of crying stopped and Claire actually stirred against him, trying to sit herself up, he felt brave enough to ask.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Claire groaned and fell back into his arms, the noise felt loud in the confines of the room and the circle of their arms.

"It's just stupid."

"Then you're in good company."

"Ha Ha." She mocked him sarcastically at first, but then quieted as if she was mulling the decision to talk over in her head.

Castiel smiled at the oversized bundle in his arms. Re-arranging the long legged 14 year old was a bit of work, but he managed to sit her back against his chest, both of their legs spread out over the overturned mess that was their shoe rack. His eyes focused on nothing particular in the fuzzy darkness, just waiting his niece out.

"Sam has a girlfriend." Claire finally said, the reminders of tears still evident in her voice, but the way she was tugging at the laces on her shoe to untie it gave him some hope that this was about to be over.

"Oh" He had seen it happen, at least in her, the looks and the touching. "You really liked Sam."

"Yeah. I did."

Castiel didn't know how to handle rejection from someone you loved, all he knew about it came from nights spent taking care of friends, drinking their night away because of the pain it evidently caused. But the feelings passed, he had seen it happen. Soon enough there was other people who caught their eyes. Alcohol was probably not appropriate to solve a 14 year olds problems with, but he did know talking about it helped. Some trashing of the subject usually helped as well and spouting clichés of plenty more fish in the sea. But he didn't want to teach Claire to trivialize relationships. To him, love was serious, a privilege only given to a select few in his life and although he hadn't experienced it full force himself he might be well on his way. So if anything, he wanted to help her back to not hating the boy because hate did nothing but eat at your own head. And maybe because he was being a bit selfish, he wanted them to get along.

"I'm sorry."

Claire wiped her nose with the end of her sleeve, sniffling through the thick mucus that had gathered in her nose and smeared sticky on her shirt.

"'Is okay. Just sucks."

"Yes, it does."

Castiel's legs had started screaming in pain at him again, blood returning to long asleep limbs and he really needed to get up before he lost them for good.

"Want to watch something stupid and eat dinner on the couch?"

"Something more stupid than Sam?"

Castiel laughed into the cinnamon-scent of his nieces' hair.

"Definitely."

 

*

 

It took Claire almost both Ace Ventura movies to turn the tears completely off. Somewhere right before the ending of the second one, she'd fallen asleep, worn out by the day and snoring quite liberally into the fabric of his jeans. Castiel managed to shuffle out from under her head, replacing his thigh with one of the cushions and went to tidy up the kitchen. And prepare himself to make a call he didn't want to make, but knew he had to. It took Dean less than two dial tones to pick up.

"Cas?" Every time Castiel heard Dean's voice answer with just that short version of his name, a name  that barely anyone called him, something turned in his stomach. A stray butterfly fluttering about, enjoying the situation.

"Hello Dean."

"Wow, you sound serious. Bad day?"

"Not for me, no." Castiel wedged his cell phone stuck between his cheek and his shoulder so he could focus on putting away the pans from the table and prepping the dishwasher while he talked. Dinner hadn't turned out how he imagined it, but Claire had smiled a bit when she noticed what he had prepared.  And maybe she had lingered a bit with the gravy-bowl in her hand, perhaps remembering her mother serving the exact same thing in that very bowl.

"Claire?"

"Yes. Apparently there was an altercation. Actually, I'm not entirely sure what exactly happened, it's hard getting straight answers out of a crying person."

Dean chuckled on the other end. Castiel's butterfly did another tumble and settled under his ribs.

"Yeah, can imagine. She alright though?" Dean sounded concerned, and that he cared for Claire enough to worry? It proceeded to add to the number of things he already appreciated about Dean.

"She will be. But I think she needs time. Which is why I'm calling."

"You cancelling on me?" Dean was trying for teasing, and usually Castiel would fall for it, laugh along with his friend's silly ways of dealing with the serious. But this was beyond what was budding between the two of them.

"Dean, she's infatuated with Sam."

The line got quiet for a minute, leaving them both to mull over where they should dare take this. It felt wrong talking about Claire's problems with someone outside of their tightly knit little family group, but Dean already felt like he was inside it. And it affected him as much as it did them.

"Sam has a girlfriend."

"Apparently that was just brought to her attention."

Dean sighed on the other side, the air sparking white noise in the receiver. "Shit Cas, that sucks."

"Yes, it does."  Castiel almost laughed at the repeat of Claire's and his own words about the situation, but none of it was really funny.

"And you need time."

"She does. I don't want to downplay her emotions to further my own, Dean. She comes first, no matter what."

"I get it, Cas. Had it been Sam I would have done the same thing." And that was a huge part of why Castiel trusted Dean with so much of his life. Their first encounter set the tone for what was important to them, and both of them understood.  "Guess Thursday's tutoring is off as well then? What should I tell Sam?"

"I think it's for the best if we put the tutoring on hold, yes. Tell him something's come up, whatever you feel comfortable with. I don't think she wants him to know. " It didn't feel like the best thing to do at all though. Castiel wanted to see Dean now, sit him down at the table and ask him what the hell he was supposed to do to help Claire get through this. He was at a loss and for once it felt like he could fill the void with someone else.

"But Dean..."

"Yeah?"

"I still want to."

"Still want to have coffee?" Dean teased.

"Yes."

"Me too, Cas. Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been unsure if I should add to this or not, but I feel for the story and there will be more chapters. I just have to revise and rewrite a bit. Stay tuned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Blizzard comes out with an expansion that doesn't suck just to screw with my writing plans. But nobody hates excuses more than I do, so, finally: The date.

 

"Oh my _god_ , do you have to? Do you know how weird this is?"

Castiel  had told Claire about his and Dean's planned date at breakfast that morning, filled with purpose because he believed in full honesty between any two people who had to live together. Lies spread more lies and he didn't want Claire to learn that was how to handled things. But to say he had been prepared to tell her would be to exaggerate. His first try had been thwarted by unforeseen circumstances, and he'd have to cancel his and Dean's date to take care of his nieces broken heart. It was still new to himself, feeling something so alien for someone that had barely been in their lives more than a few weeks.

It had taken another two and something weeks before they could even talk about the Winchester's again. Her infatuation with the boy was still a touchy subject, but they had added her regular Thursday's back into the schedule to test the waters out. Apparently Sam had noticed something was off as Claire avoided him at school, and Dean hadn't been able to keep quiet when his brother had employed something Dean had dubbed the "Puppy Eyes of Doom" and made him divulge what he knew. Thankfully Sam still seemed the gentleman Castiel took him for, and one day Claire had come home, cheerful for the first time in weeks. He hadn't asked why, but he figured something had resolved between them.

"Weird? Why?"

"Why? Because I'm friends with Sam! You can't date his brother.  If you guys end up together we'd be like.. siblings." Claire made a face and shuddered "Since when do you date anyway?"

Castiel wasn't bothered by his niece's frustration, she would come around to it given enough time, right now she was mostly annoyed that their date meant  her Thursday evening tutoring with Sam had been overridden and she would have to deal with staying home all evening.

"I don't date."

Claire huffed next to him, arms folded across her chest in such a typical teenage rebellion act he couldn't help finding her amusing. Trying to hide his smile, he rearranged the collar of his dress-shirt. It was a dark grey, the fabric hiding thin silver stripes if you looked at it closely. As soon as he'd seen it he knew he wanted to wear it, feel the silkiness of it on his skin, but bringing it home he had realized it didn't fit any of his suit-jackets since they were all blue so he had settled for wearing it to any slightly formal event he was forced to go to. Maybe it was too much though, he didn't even know where they were going.

He had never given his own appearance much thought, just looked like he'd found himself comfortable with and dressed appropriate for whatever the occasion called for. What a date with a friend called for in the clothing-department he had no idea. Hadn't Claire been so upset with him, he could have asked her for help, but he didn't much trust her not to dress him up horribly right now. Thankfully her moods didn't stick around like his did, she was easy to anger but eased back to her usual softness just as fast. Jimmy's explosive personality shone right through her when she didn't get her will through, but after she had slammed her door closed and been given a while to calm down, hints of her mother's nature brought her back to calm and collected.

"You look ridiculous, by the way."

Castiel believed in his sense of composition and colour-coordination, it had been part of his work for years after all, but he was always unsure if his own taste was appropriate. And Claire had learned how to push his buttons.

"Well, help me then." He begged her, throwing his arms up in frustration.

Claire sighed, but dropped her arms to her side and pulled off the wall to walk over to him where he stood unsure and fidgeting in front of the bedroom mirror.

"The shirt's fine, but here, roll up the sleeves." Castiel removed his cufflinks, letting Claire fold the fabric in on itself until it reached just below his elbows. "Lose the tie. And unbutton the top buttons, man, only Mormons button those."

Removing his favourite tie from around his neck, he wasn't really sure about her advice. He always wore a tie at work, and it felt weird wearing a pressed shirt without it. He felt unravelled and naked. But who was he to know what was right to wear to a night like this.

"Can't believe you're going out with a guy like Dean..." He heard his niece say under her breath as she moved behind him, looking him over as she went.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just never thought he'd be your type. He just seems so much younger."

Castiel raised and let his eyebrows settle again, it hadn't even struck him as a part of the equation that they were of different ages. It had never mattered in any of his other friendships. "Only by a few years."

"Yeah, and Sam is only "a few years" older than me."

"You're 14..."

"Yeah, and evidently neither of us is dating."

Castiel met her eyes in the mirror. She stood behind him, brushing out a crease between his shoulders with a morose look on her face. He could feel the shift in their jargon. She wasn't really that upset with him, but something still bothered her.

"Claire, I don't have to go. If you're really not comfortable with this, I can cancel."

Claire shook her head, gave his shoulder a squeeze and seemed done with his make-over.

"No, it's - It's okay."

He eyed her up and down, tried to read her expression for any kind of change to her mood and wished not for the first time that he could read the teenager's mind.

"Oh my god, Cassie, yes, I'm fine!"

Castiel grimaced at the supposedly endearing nickname. One he hadn't heard in over two years and now felt like it was someone else's, some old version of himself he no longer knew.  "Ugh, don't call me that."

"Dad used to call you that."

"Yes. And it was terrible. I hated it."

"Casssssie!"

Castiel groaned and tried to evade her by heading for the door. Behind him the incessant chanting continued, throwing him back to childhood memories he remembered but hadn't dare touch for fear of what they would bring back. So maybe he did hate the nickname, but hearing it again was far from as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. He couldn't very much just allow her to continue calling him that though, somewhere a line had to be drawn, and Cassie, that was his.

"Cassssieeeee! Don't run from me!" Claire should be taking acting classes, really, the drama in her voice was perfectly rendered.

Thankfully, he was saved by the bell. Or really by a knock on the door, their doorbell hadn't been functioning since they moved in and Castiel had no idea how to go about getting it fixed. It hadn't really been a vital thing to deal with. Claire pushed ahead of him, ran for the front door and pulled it open just before he had entered the hallway himself.

"Hey Dean!"

"Hey kiddo."

Dean's hair was gelled down in a classic style, parted on one side, instead of the effortless spikes he usually sported, and although he wore the same ratty old leather jacket as always, Castiel could see a dark shirt hiding underneath. Instead of the mechanic he had bonded with over coffee and the woes of raising kids, he was suddenly an attractive man who looked so far out of Castiel' league he had to be heading for the professionals. Suddenly Castiel felt fear rush up from his stomach again. That incessant feeling that he wasn't good enough or had any clue about what he was doing.

There were no butterflies in his stomach any more, instead they seemed to have morphed into giant rooks, flapping black wings about as if they were horribly startled and overwhelmed by the situation. Everything felt so much bigger than it probably was, they were just going out for an evening coffee, maybe one beer because they both had work in the morning. But something could start here, they could become something to each other, something Castiel had never had, and to think he could have it with Dean startled the rooks all over again before they'd even gotten enough time to settle, sending their flurry of wings to pull at every tightened nerve in his body. Thankfully neither Claire nor Dean had seen him come to a halt halfway into the hallway and freeze in panic. They kept right on talking through his freak out, and maybe listening to them for a while would calm the racing pulse pounding in his head.

"So, you okay with me taking your uncle out? Any time you want him back by? Ten, eleven?"

"If you call him Cassie you can have him all night."

Dean raised an eyebrow by the sudden prompt and the grin on the her face when she said it, but apparently decided it was worth it to side with the teen.

"Deal." The scheming two shook hands, grins splitting their faces, waiting for him to step in and object. But Castiel's chest still felt tight and it was a chore taking even the slightest breath.

 Until Dean looked up over Claire's head, so much taller than her, and seemed to sense the storm brewing in Castiel's mind. The dim light cloaked the sharp colour of Dean's eyes from him, but the look in them said enough. The smile that reached them so warm and genuine it crinkled the corners of his eyes into crow's feet that led all the way into his hairline.

Castiel had a hard time not finding flaws in other people, he catalogued appearances to get to know people and he knew objectively what was conventionally pretty and what was not, although he felt no inclination to either himself. Dean's crow's feet were something a man his age wasn't supposed to really have yet. But they were perfect. An extension of his smile that brought his entire face into the emotion. The ice forming in his chest slowly thawed. The panic settled back into gentle flutters of excitement.

"You ready, Cas?"

Claire's thin fingers pressed his jacket into his hand and he nodded at Dean, unable to do much more.

"Drive safe! And think about what I'm giving up for you two! I'm a graceful loser over here! "

Castiel climbed into the low seat of Dean's car to his niece's taunting. She had pulled down the sleeve of her shirt and looked to be thoroughly enjoying waving it at them, as if they were heading out to sea. Dean's keys jingled next to him and soon the car started with a rumble, drowning Claire's words in the powerful noise.  Before pulling out of the drive-way Dean turned in his seat, looking straight at him again. "You alright?"

Castiel searched himself, tried to find reasons not to do this, tried to listen to any part of him that wished to stay home and forget all about what this date could mean and lead to. But he found nothing. Just the slightest inkling of residue panic from before. He willed it down, thinking about another opportunity to sit down and talk like they had done weeks before.

"Yes. I think I am."

 

*

 

Castiel decided that he had changed his mind about Dean's car. It still looked like the car of a show-off kind of guy as he had first thought, but the way Dean talked about it, like it had a soul and a character, was rather fascinating. People attributed human traits to many things, and as Dean told him more of its story he understood why he kept it in such pristine condition.

 It had been his father's car, before his license had been revoked after his last DUI, and the boys  had actually lived in it from time to time during their childhood. Castiel couldn't imagine the car inhabiting more than one of the tall Winchesters, none the less three, but he smiled at the thought and at how Dean seemed happy about reminiscing despite what he knew couldn't have been an easy childhood. His own seemed so plain and uneventful in comparison.

The worry that had churned in his gut seemed completely at ease, to the point that he actually tuned out a lot of the car-ride. Dean kept talking about this and that, revealing more about the car and updated him on how Sam was doing. Apparently Sam's girlfriend was named Jess and they both had their sights on Stanford after high school. Dean's pride was so evident in his voice Castiel had to smile against the fabric of his own jacket.

 Soft rock guitars played wailing notes in the background of the conversation, some song he vaguely recognized from his own childhood and Jimmy's fascination for 80's rock. Castiel had never liked the style of music particularly, he listened when Jimmy played his records because he didn't really mind it, but he had a stronger love for anything older. Jazz and blues for their mix of melancholy and strength and classical music for the technical perfection he just never could reproduce himself.

"Hey, Cas?" Castiel had been so lost in his own thoughts, trying to make out the words in the distant music that he hadn't realized he was staring out the passenger side window.

"Yes?"

Dean's hands wrung the leather of the steering wheel before he spoke again. "We good?"

"Of course, Dean" They were. So far everything felt completely fine, despite the incredible odds that it shouldn't. The ease of their conversation still held firm from weeks ago and he didn't exactly feel too worried about the evening.

"Oh, good. So - Uhm, I thought, we could go somewhere Sammy and I usually go. It's not really a coffee-shop, but I thought it's getting late and we could actually get something to eat instead of just coffee, and this place is run by this woman who's practically like family to us so- "

Dean was smiling, but rambling and Castiel felt himself confused by the sudden fluster. Of course anything Dean had picked out would be sufficient, he never really went out to eat or have coffee himself unless the people at work forced him to join them at lunch, so he had no idea what Lawrence had to offer past the stores he frequented for his and Claire's daily needs.

"Sounds great." Castiel tried to placate, and Dean seemed to respond, smiling wider now and a bit less strained.

"Oh. Awesome. So yeah, it's just off here and - " Dean flipped the signal to turn right and the car rolled into a gravel parking lot. By the look of the place Castiel could imagine it was a place he would never have gone into by himself, but the building looked interesting. The wood panelling of the two-story building was tinted dark and rich, and the window sills looked deep enough to sit in. In its rough simplicity it was rather beautiful, touched up from its former glory surely because despite that it gave off that old feeling, it looked neat and ordered all the same. A few trucks of various sizes stood lined up outside on the parking lot and a group of motorcycles leaned parked on their stands by the front door. Definitely Dean's kind of place rather than his. But it seemed quiet, no loud traffic and no discordant music blaring from anywhere. He appreciated that.

"Here we are. Ellen's Roadhouse. Best burger's and steaks in Lawrence." Dean sounded proud,  motioning for the large sign outside that merely said _Roadhouse_ in large, red neon letters because the _Ellen's_ on top seemed to have gone out at some point and never been replaced.

"Had you planned to trick me into dinner with your family?" He had meant it to sound like a joke, but perhaps this new place was making his nerves show a little again. It came out odd and Dean took it too heart, releasing the steering wheel as they had parked and he had just to turn of the ignition.

"No! I mean, no. Definitely not, we can just get coffee here too, if you want to stick to that, I just wanted to - I don't know, Cas."

"Dean, I'm joking. I said it was fine, and it is. I left Claire to make food on her own, so I haven't had dinner."

That smile again. Just shy and small, as if he didn't do it often. Dean often picked up the big cheesy one instead and plastered it on as he made jokes, and it had been sweet to see at first because every move of Dean's face was graceful, but now Castiel saw through it like he had always seen through fake smiles before. This was better, it felt honest and real.

"Awesome." Dean repeated, throwing himself out of his side of the car so fast the suspension underneath did a dip and Castiel actually started to feel like this wasn't as one sided as he had dreaded it to be when the alien feelings had shown their heads. In seconds, before Castiel could barely get his seatbelt unhooked, Dean was at his side of the car, opening the door for him. It was a bit too much, a bit on the forced courteous side, but who was he to know what people deemed normal. It didn't hurt, and he didn't feel like making a fuzz out of nothing, so he smiled and exited the vehicle.

Dean opened the Roadhouse door for him too, ushering him inside into the warmth. The inside of the building looked very much like he had imagined it would. The walls were the same dark wood as the outside, but the booths and tables were lit up by copper-coloured lanterns on the walls and a big chandelier made of moose-horns which took up most of the two-story high ceiling. It was just enough to hint at the rough edge of the people that it wanted to attract, but not over the top.

As he was trying to take in the structure of the high ceiling above the dining room, Castiel suddenly felt Dean's arm cradle the low of his back and he instantly shrugged the arm off. It was instinct to him, he couldn't help it. It hadn't even been there long enough for him to ponder if he liked it or not and it felt bad that he hadn't even tried. Dean had already broken through a lot of his usual barriers he kept up against people, and he wanted to keep pushing to see where his stops were. But it was new, a lifetime of living in the same grooves made you tough to wheel out of them. Anxiety crept into him where he stood and he hadn't realized Dean meant for the action to be one of shepherding him further into the building until he cleared his throat and motioned with a hand instead.

Castiel knew his cheeks were red, it always happened when he was stunned like he was just now. The blood rushed to his head in an attempt to figure out what was happening and for some reason it settled on his cheeks. It annoyed him greatly as many saw it as him blushing and acting coy, when the exact opposite was the truth. The flush usually meant he was uncomfortable and needed space. Trying to breathe deeper and more controlled, he followed Dean to the left where a long bar stretched out along the wall and a woman stood re-arranging bottles on a shelf behind the bar.

"Little Joanna Beth" Dean's voice was a tease, he evidently knew the girl.

The girl put down the bottle she was holding, turned on her heels and her blond hair followed her round in a long swirl. Castiel tried to assess her while Dean continued talking. "Winchester."

"You do know you're not supposed to handle liquor on your own?"

"Yeah, well, right back at ya." The girl made a grimace, sticking out her lower jaw and Dean laughed at her.

"Your mother around or has she gone insane enough to leave you to run the place?"

"Oh, I'm here alright" The voice came from a door behind the bar, and the woman speaking came through it a second later, wiping her hands on a towel tied to her apron as she went. Dean reached across the bar to hug the woman. Castiel waited, he never much hugged anyone anymore. Jimmy always did try when they were younger, so did his mother. But he never felt the urge, didn't understand why you wanted someone else's arms around you as a greeting much less as comfort. But after the accident, Claire had taught him it could be comfortable. So far she was the only one he enjoyed being affectionate with. Seeing Dean hug this woman so close to his chest and wrap his long arms around her small stature, he tried to put himself in her place. Would he enjoy that? His stomach answered in a low whine, a fire that he only felt that first day they met. Perhaps he would.

When they broke apart they were both smiling. "Yeah, alright, enough coddling. You staying for dinner, boy? We haven't seen you and Sam in a while."

Dean took a step away from the bar, finding Castiel's side again. "Actually, I promised Cas here you have the best food in town. So..."

Suddenly two pairs of eyes looked him over, and he knew they were judging and prying without asking any questions. Castiel was very aware of how he usually did the same thing himself, so he stood still, waiting for their judgement. Not that he terribly cared for it personally if he got it or not , but they were people important to Dean and if he wanted to see this through, their good graces might be where he wanted to be. He hated the charades people went through though, he would much better have liked if they asked him anything on their minds. He could handle questions, but people made their own minds up over the slightest things they thought they could read on you. At least when he did it, he only took in the actual facts he could make out, not what he "believed" was there.

"Well, I guess that means we have a reputation to protect. Jo, light a fire under Benny, would you?" The young blonde nodded and disappeared behind the door which her mother had come from. The pressure in the air eased out just as fast as it had appeared, and Castiel felt even more at ease when Dean took two menu's from the bar and nodded towards the dining room. They picked a booth by one of the windows and Castiel appreciated having the option of letting his eyes stray to the outside, although he couldn't see much through the dark. It felt like he had a handle on things if he knew he could take a break from looking at Dean. All these feelings were new, and he was nowhere near his usual levels of control. Dean's green eyes made it all better and worse at the same time, and the frustration caught in the array of emotions running through him.

"You okay, Cas?" Dean's voice was gentle, actually asking not just being polite, just like all the other times he had asked the same thing.

He could have lied so easily, made it easier on them, but it wasn't him.

"A little overwhelmed, I think. I never go on dates." He said instead, and Dean smiled just as gentle as his voice had been. He was probably not surprised.

"'Is alright, it doesn't have to be different, you know? Just us talking, like normal."

Castiel nodded. Despite how he usually ended up offending people if he talked to them for long, or got bored enough to tune the conversation out, Dean hadn't ever been the usual sort of acquaintance. He actually wanted to listen to him, every word and thought. And somehow Dean didn't find his own idiosyncrasies at all off-putting. He wanted to be here too, he had driven him here, to his favourite place, to meet people he considered family and the thought settled his nerves enough to open the menu in front of him and not care about where Dean's eyes went.

The menu reflected the place perfectly. Rustic, home-made and fit to the season. A few different styled hamburgers and steaks, a shepherd's pie and some fish dishes he didn't even take a glimpse at. Last time he had fish he was 10 years old and got food poisoning so bad it had actually warranted a trip to the hospital. Seafood had never much sit right with him after that.

Castiel could feel Dean's eyes on him, but he kept reading on about the different burgers. Food was another of those things he was peculiar about, it wasn't that he was picky, apart from seafood he ate nearly everything, but he wanted to know what everything entailed. If something was put down in front of him without him knowing what was in it, it was hard for him to focus on the actual tastes and he spent much more time cataloguing every component and valued it by its shape and size. It took time and some picking around with his fork in the food. Even he knew it was probably best to leave that quirk in the dark.

"Find anything?" Dean hadn't even opened his menu, just leaned his elbow on it and watched Castiel read instead.

"I was thinking a burger, but the steaks sound good as well."

Nodding, Dean shifted in his seat to be able to look in on the other man's menu, but having to double over still to read it upside down.

"The aged rib-eye is a delicious fucking monster, I tell ya'. So is the all-American-" Thick fingers with blunted nails pointed at one of the steaks and then over to the burger-list, but Castiel wasn't anywhere near following what he was saying. Every move of Dean's fingertips echoed so loud against the paper it was like the first day they met all over again. His hands looked used, strong, as if they had worked and struggled every hour of his life up to this point and Castiel wanted to touch them and see what calluses from something else but the hold of a pencil felt like. It was the strangest feeling, to want to feel someone else's skin.

" - and man, the fries are so good you'll rather eat a shoe than go to McDonalds ever again." Dean withdrew his fingers and dragged Castiel's mind with them back to reality. Right. He was supposed to pick.

"I think I feel like steak." It only had simple sides; fries, oven-baked tomatoes and a béarnaise sauce. Things he knew and was familiar with. Dean smiled in answer and let him finish reviewing the drink-menu without commentary.

This was all a confusing rollercoaster of feeling perfectly fine one moment and absolutely out of his depth the other. Not that that wasn't something he hadn't experienced before. Having to step up to take care of Claire, losing Jimmy, moving, changing jobs; his life had been nothing but an anxiety-fuelled ride for the last two years and in perspective, maybe it wasn't that big of a deal that his mind had suddenly decided that it wasn't as rigid about feelings as it had been before. Hadn't it been said that _"Change is the law of life"_ '?

Ellen retrieved their menu's and then took their orders without a notepad, something that really set Castiel's alarms off. He needed it to be right, and apparently it showed on his face after Ellen left with a nod to them both and a smile that looked knowing because Dean was fast to explain.

"There's nothing Ellen doesn't hear or remember. Kinda makes her -" Dean looked after the retreating woman and only continued when she was out of hearing range. "-makes her scary as hell. But also pretty reliable, you know?"

Castiel guessed Dean didn't just mean with orders.

"But yeah. And, now you've met 90% percent of my family." Dean laughed. "Must be a record for a first date, huh?"

Castiel smiled back, really tried not to look strained, but he couldn't help think two very separate things about that and it threw him off balance with the good feeling he had been having. One, Dean had met 100% of his family, and the knowledge of that felt dark. Two, he had no idea what he was supposed to answer. Again, he had no knowledge about what was normal for a first date. All he knew he had learned from people talking about their own dates and the few odd bits and pieces he had learned from TV. But surely dates must be more than shallow dinners and then jumping into bed? Did people not date because they were friends or wanted to know more about each other? Perhaps he hoped a bit too much on the latter being untrue.

But Dean saw through and filled the silence afterwards with an apology.

"I'm sorry, I'm messing up here. Just a little, you know, a little nervous and out of practice. Been a while since I had the time to actually go out with someone like this."

Castiel shrugged, felt that singe of anger that was probably jealousy burn suddenly hot in his throat. Dean could probably date anyone he wished to if he made the time for it, probably had no problem at all to find someone to warm his bed. But Castiel quelled the feeling at the door because Dean was also here, sounding genuinely embarrassed and had been nothing but accommodating so far.

"It's alright, I wouldn't know if you were anyway I... I don't date. I have never dated, actually. Well, I tried to, had people wanting to take me out at College, but it never worked out."

"Right, busy with the books huh?" Dean said and leaned back against the back of the booth as he noticed Ellen coming back to set down their ordered drinks.

"No, Dean, you don't understand." Castiel paused, waiting for Ellen to put their glasses down and move away from the dining area before he continued. "I had no wish to date." Castiel barely noticed the way he held his own glass so tight it felt about ready to break and the thought of being allowed to leave this discussion un-ended if only to care for a cut up hand, suddenly felt rather enticing. No one knew about this but him. Jimmy had know perfectly well, and so did probably his mother by the end, but at work he kept to himself and since he got out of college he barely saw anyone else he had to include into his life and his secrets. Not that he held it as a secret, he just didn't find a reason to tell anyone this much about himself. But Dean had a right to know what he was getting into, didn't he?

"Why's that?" Dean sounded genuinely interested, sipping on his beer and Castiel might have gotten stuck on the way he darted his tongue out to get the froth that settled on his top lip and completely forgot for a second that he was trying to make a point that this feeling had never happened before.

"I - It's complicated." It was a lame response, stalling if anything ever was.

"Not a problem. But you know you can throw it on me, man. It takes a lot to scare me away."

Dean was leaning into the table again, green eyes so focused on Castiel that he felt physically affected. Dean's hands lay on the table, open and inviting and this close, illuminated by the yellowy light in the dining room, Castiel could see they were calloused even across the palms. Thick patches of skin that were slightly darker than the surrounding tissue. A scar or two split the freckly skin. Fair hairs grew scattered across his knuckles, the hair longer and denser as his wrist met his arm. Again there was an urge to reach out and touch. Not particularly to have Dean touch him, that still made him want to back away, but to touch and feel the ginger hair under his own fingers? Yes, he would like that. How the hell did that think it could merge with what he was trying to tell Dean about himself?

"Maybe we should eat first and reveal our _innermost secrets_ later?" Another cop out, but he wanted this dinner to last, didn't want to have to get up and get out if Dean decided his secret was a bit too much to handle.

Thankfully Dean shrugged his shoulders and smiled that soft smile again.

Ellen wasn't far behind with delivering their orders after that. His steak looked like a steak usually did, but the sauce was rich in flavour and so were the tomatoes. He tried to will himself into taking it easy with the food, eat it slow and not divide it up and eat it in the weird little games his mind made up sometimes. Thankfully Dean was a good distraction. The tension from before, Dean's fumbling with words, it calmed down with the arrival of his hamburger. They talked more about the kids, a topic that was easy to fall into, but neither of them minded. Castiel found he liked hearing more about Sam, and about Dean as a kid, and what they got up to as two young boys with a shared prank-streak between them.

Castiel tried to pay him back in stories, but he only had a few of them that were actually funny. His entire life had been a rather calm affair, if you looked past the last two years, but even he had a few incidents at College that got Dean laughing. And he nodded appreciatively when Castiel told him Jimmy shared Dean's taste in music. They would probably had liked each other, him and Dean.

Somehow the jump from family to relationships was suddenly breached again, and Dean looked down at the last of his fries while he told him about his last relationship. It had burned him to lose Lisa to another guy, it really had, but he understood why she didn't think they would work out. Her own son was 3, and she was dealing with kindergarten and runny noses while Dean had to work around Sam's high school schedule and soccer-practice. They had barely had time to see each other and their lives weren't anywhere on the same page.

"Not like you and me, right?" Dean added afterwards, a crooked smile on his face as if he was joking, but Castiel could see the downshot eyes and how it was all a defense.

"No. Not at all." And Castiel made up his mind. Used his analytical mind to make the decision for him, because when had it ever failed him, except from when it went into overdrive. He and Dean had a lot in common, they communicated with an ease he hadn't felt before and he felt like a person that tried his hardest at everything he went for. Hopefully he would still have the want to go for this when he knew the truth.

Castiel cleared his throat, drank some more of his very nearly flat beer, and set his mind to what to say. Dean looked up, chewing absently on a fry and waited for something to follow the noise he had made.

"I think there is something you should know before we continue this." Dean raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet to listen. "The reason I have never dated before is because it has never fit into my life. On an emotional plane, I suppose. I enjoy getting close to some people but that is where my reactions stop."

"Reactions? Like, what, feelings? Love?"

"That, yes, but also..."

Dean put down his fork. "So you're saying you're a virgin?"

Not the exact point he was trying to make, but that was also true so he gave a half-assed nod and wondered how up front he wanted to be about this.

"Okay. So what? Just means you have more to explore and don't have to live with the fact that you lost your virginity as a fumbling teenager. Believe me, it's not as big of a deal as people make it out to be." Dean chuckled, laughed and shined bright enough with his smile that Castiel felt the frustration boil in his chest, he didn't want to hear Dean trivialize something that had been the biggest forming realization of his life. Of course it didn't matter that he was a virgin, he didn't need to be told that. He knew who he was, he was just trying to explain it to Dean without being so terribly blunt as to scare him away.

"Dean, I'm asexual."

Dean's chewing stopped, leaving his mouth closed but his jaw dropped and eyebrows raised as if he hadn't heard him right.

"Huh?"

He wasn't ashamed of what he was, he was content in his life and his choices, but the way Dean looked at him got to him like other people didn't. This was where people started to argue. "He hadn't found the right person yet." "You haven't tried me, haven't you?" "You don't know those kind of things until you try it." But he knew. Probably always had known that he didn't crave anything but friendship from the people he knew. He didn't even touch himself in that way. Nothing had ever excited him to the point that he had that reaction. Apart from the few times he had woken  up to a morning erection, he had barely even seen himself excited at all. But Dean had stirred something. It scared him to see himself change, but maybe this was another thing that wasn't as rigid of a rule as he thought it was. He would just have to hope Dean understood, otherwise his elaborate thoughts of how they could work had no base to start out on anyway.

"I don't -" Castiel tried to make his hands talk for him. These were words that he didn't enjoy speaking. "I don't get sexually aroused. And it hasn't ever interested me to be."

"Like - like not at **all**?" Dean asked, his eyes open and so green under the lighting that they barely looked real.

Castiel shook his head no and picked with his fork at the last pieces of his steak. It had been good. Really good actually, but his stomach was in knots again over the conversation and he had lost the rest of his appetite quite quickly. Dean closed his mouth and stayed quiet for a while, leaving Castiel to freak out internally because it looked like he lost another friend just by telling the same old truth he always had to tell. But he would be okay. He had his job and he had Claire, anything else was a bonus or a distraction.

"Wow, that's - That's something to spring on a guy on the first date." Castiel looked at Dean with a raised eyebrow, accusing, but Dean just held up a hand and huffed out a laugh.

"Sorry, Cas. I just... Damn, that's not something I've encountered before, you know? But okay, you're - you're-"

"Asexual." Castiel filled in, unsure of where Dean's babbling was going. He wanted to know how this was going to end up, was he still allowed to stay here or should he take his coat and call himself a cab to avoid an embarrassing argument?

"Asexual. Alright." Dean seemed to taste the word. Judging from his reaction, and his beautiful looks, Castiel was pretty sure he was a very sexual person. They might have that against them, if everything else wasn't feeling like a hill too steep to climb already.

"Does that change anything?"

It took a while for Dean to relax, to take in Castiel's tense facial expression and realize how much of a deal this conversation was.  But he smiled, gentle, that small twitch of his lips that reached his eyes and made the green of them stand out against the dark shadow cast by his creased eyelids. Crow's feet strained in his skin, reaching for the edges of his beautiful face.

"Not really, no. I guess it means I know more about you now. And it definitely explains the fact that you've shrugged me off every time I've touched you so far." A sigh slipped out between pink lips. "Damn, I'm sorry about that. Was I too sexual about it? Or is it-" Dean made a gesture with his hands in the air, wiggling his fingers to try and fill in where his words faultered. " - touching in general?"

"I don't know. "Castiel hadn't expected such calm and collected questions, so he was stumped to answer at first. "I mean, so far I haven't responded very well at all to people who try and touch me in any way. I hug my family but that is as far as I've been comfortable in my life."

Dean nodded again. Taking a break to drink a sip from his glass. He didn't look offended or angered. Or as if Castiel would need to take himself home as fast as possible to get out of a situation he didn't want to be in. Instead he looked as if he was thinking, analyzing every word they had said to each other so far.

"So you've never dated? Ever had feelings for anyone?"

"I have had coffee with a person or two that pushed me for it, it was easier to just say yes and go through with it than to try and explain. But there was never any kind of connection." Castiel answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"But _you_ wanted to have coffee with me?"

Castiel actually felt himself blush. Not in the fearful, adrenaline-fuelled way he usually flushed red, but actually blushed because Dean's question was something he still hadn't quite figured out himself. He really had been attracted to Dean, the moment he saw him, but it was scary and new just as much as it was pleasurable. All he could do was nod and hope Dean understood how hard it was to lose the control he thought he had.

Dean put down his glass again, leaning closer to the table than he had been all night and still gentle. Still smiling. It was almost as confusing as the deep heat that settled at his hips when he could smell Dean's aftershave waft across the table.

"How about tonight, was it okay? Did I do okay?"

"Yes, Dean. I really appreciated the dinner. It's... It's been really nice actually."

Dean's face lit up, lips split into a grin that showed off a row of white teeth and dimples in the sides of his cheeks. "Awesome."'

"Awesome?" Castiel questioned.

"Yup. Definitely awesome."

 

*

 

The ride home was a bit more on the tense side than the ride to the Roadhouse. A lot had been said and a lot had to be taken in. But in all? Castiel was relieved. Dean seemed his usual self, tapping out the drum line of the song playing on the cassette deck and moving his lips silently with the lyrics. Castiel finds himself wondering if Dean can actually sing and chooses not to, or if it's as terrible as his own voice. There was so many questions he actually wanted answers to when it came to this man, and he actually had to laugh at himself, because this was so out of his own character. It was like he barely knew the person who had stepped inside the very same car just hours ago. Actually, he barely remembered who he had been before meeting Dean that first time. There had been no emotions to follow on a whim, just the fear of it some day happening. And now that it had? It was actually kind of relaxing when he let the anxiety fall away.

"What's funny?"

Castiel threw up his hands in an unsure shrug.

"What isn't?"

Dean laughed with him.

*

Of course the roads felt half as long and time sped by twice as fast, because that was the way of time when you let it fill with good experiences. With a crunch of gravel underneath them and a last sway of the car they came to a halt on Castiel's driveway. It was hard to say good night. The words came easy but the willingness to go inside and end the night just as they were laughing was that much harder. The Impala was still on, humming idly in the background when Castiel finally unfastened his seatbelt and exited the car. Dean followed.

"So."

Castiel turned, just in front of the car and at the base of the stairs leading up onto his porch. "So" He mimicked.

"I hope tonight was okay?"

"Yes, Dean-" Castiel groaned. He wasn't one to endure things he didn't like, and the dinner hadn't been one thing other than pleasant. Dean seemed terribly worried it hadn't been though, keeping on asking at every turn. Castiel had started to suspect that the bravado Dean showed off was just a front. That if you got under it you would see this gentle boy, in need of reassurance despite what his exterior said. Quite the opposite to what he felt like himself.

"Alright, alright, _can it Winchester_ , I get it. I'm sorry I keep asking, ." The smile betrayed him again, soft and gentle. "But better safe than sorry, right?"

"So they say."

They stood in silence for a moment, Castiel waited for Dean to take the lead on how to end a date because he had no clue what was customary. Would Dean want to hug him? Kiss him? Either felt very invasive right now, his mind was a complete mess of impressions and thoughts from the night and he would really like to just say goodnight and be allowed inside. He wanted to sleep on it, everything felt better when his brain had been allowed to categorize everything right again and he could look at it from somewhere else but the current moment.

Thankfully, Dean seemed to have understood him because he didn't push for anything.

"I had a great time too, you know? Like I said, it's been ages since I've felt- " Those thick fingers tugged on the short strands of Dean's own hair, placating curls that already lay perfectly slick. "-this. So, yeah. You wanna get together next week again? Maybe not on a day the kids have their thing? I think Claire'll hate me if I mess up their little geek-meet again."

Castiel laughed, but he nodded, agreeing to a repeat of the night.

"Great, okay. Well, I got your number so I'll just call you and we can make plans later?"

"Sounds good, Dean."

"Good night, Cas." Dean looked so unsure despite the smile on his face, and Castiel could see he wanted to reach out, but he shoved his hands in his pockets instead and walked back to the car.

Castiel was tired, the night had been draining and so was the worry in his gut. Was Dean going to have to second guess himself all the time when they saw each other only to placate his needs? It felt wrong to deny him if he wanted, but Castiel just couldn't. Maybe it would change further down the road? Or maybe there was a chance Dean would be able to live with this. Right now he wasn't very much sure of anything. And it translated into nervous anxiety.

 

"Dean, are you really serious about this?"

Dean stopped mid-stride, stopped the keys he was rolling round his finger and turned around to find Castiel with his arms hanging down by his sides where he left him on the porch, not even close to walking inside the house.

"About what?"

"This!" Castiel motioned between the two of them. "I am not exactly a catch, Dean. I know the complications my life brings to others."

But Dean just smiled that stupid grin again, as if he knew something Castiel didn't know. "Serious as a heart-attack, Cas."

"Dean..."

Opening the door to the car, Dean leaned against it for a moment, looking at the way the porch-light illuminated Castiel's hair from above, spreading golden light around his head like a halo and enhanced the sharp angles of his face.

"How could I not be? I'll see you next week, Cas."

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was long and hard to reign in because a lot was happening in Cas' head and I tried to make it make sense the way it did in my head. Did I manage?


	4. Chapter 4

 

Giving in to feelings had seemed the hardest step to take. But on their fourth real date the topic of sex had come up again and it had admittedly been both hard and frustrating to know he had to learn something as basic as romance from the ground up. Especially when he was told Dean was much the expert on all things carnal.

And that had proved to be the hardest step for him to talk about. Dean didn't brag, but neither did he lie, and Castiel had told him he would have it no other way. There had been both women and men in Dean's life, a good amount of both over the years and Castiel couldn't say he was unaffected by the pressure. His own life had been work, and he had much to show for it, but seeing how much he lacked in other areas now scared him. Jealousy was something other people felt that had no control over themselves and their lust, but it had burned in his stomach for a while afterwards. Until he'd reasoned with himself enough times that he eventually believed his own words.

There was something between them, something that had passed the butterfly stage after a few weeks and settled into something else. A kind of comfort in each other's presence that Castiel didn't have with anyone else. Except when Dean laughed so hard he had to hold on to Castiel's arm, then that first overwhelming feeling came fluttering back. But he was scared they were going too slow for Dean's normal relationships. He didn't want to do anything he was not yet sure about, but he was genuinely worried the things they did do were somehow not enough. That he wasn't enough.

"Cas, you're doing it again."

They had been watching a movie, some old Sci-fi Dean had insisted on when Castiel told him he'd never seen much more than a few episodes of Star Trek when it came to the genre. But his mind always drifted when he had nothing in his hands to keep them busy. At home he always kept a sketchpad by the sofa for just that reason, it was so much easier to relax when his mind was so truly occupied he couldn't let it wander.

Dean was warm next to him on the couch, but they held their distance enough for what was _not_ a date. Evidently when they met on the nights the kids were studying, wasn't to be labelled as dates. To Castiel it didn't matter, spending time with Dean like this didn't much differ from the regular Thursdays to the days they went out to dinner. It was always this relaxed, so easy to slip into a state of just the two of them in the world that his mind could start the game of "worry about nonsense" just because there was now so much space in there.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, don't be. We don't have to watch this if you don't want to."

Castiel waved his hand to try and diffuse. "No, no it's interesting."

"Then why is your face all scrunged up?"

Castiel wanted to know why they hadn't moved past this. Past the line they seemed to have drawn at kissing and nothing more. He had been confused by himself when he actually had been the one to lean in the first time and plant one on Dean. There hadn't been much touching at all before that, a touch of a hand here and there, but after that first kiss Castiel found he actually enjoyed the lazy comfort that came with it. But to take it further? He wasn't entirely sure if he even wanted to. Things still didn't affect him the way it did Dean. Their kisses tightened his chest and he truly enjoyed the way Dean's skin felt under his fingertips, but there was no tightening or arousing feelings reaching elsewhere in his body. The crotch of Dean's jeans had become a focus for his eyes every time they gave each other more than a peck on the cheek, and he wasn't sure if he liked finding the evidence of Dean's appreciation for him there or if it scared him. But he'd become obsessed with the thought of it none the less.

"Do you mind that we haven't had sex yet?"

"Well, that one came out of left field" Dean's eyebrow shot up like it did when he got stumped by something Castiel had said. It happened a lot, he'd noticed. He shouldn't be as blunt, but he didn't find reason not to be.

"I'm sorry. It's just that you've told me about your past relationships, and I've had none, so it's hard to know if I'm doing things right. I'm not sure if I should take your lead on moving things further along, or if you want me to initiate- "

"Whoa, Cas, back up." Dean turned in the sofa to face him. Their crossed legs overlapped slightly and Castiel debated with himself if he liked it or not. His own jeans felt rough against Dean's sweatpants, but the warmth that seemed to come from the touch felt perfectly calming. He decided he liked it. Liked Dean's legs as a whole actually. They were strong, wide set and bowed slightly in a curve at his knees and the one time Castiel had seen him in shorts , he had thoroughly enjoyed the way the thick muscle of his thighs worked underneath the skin. Maybe he was one of those men who liked legs? Like people enjoyed breasts or butts. He had no frame of reference and it annoyed him quite a lot.

"There are only two people who get a say in this relationship, alright? What's in my past or yours is irrelevant."

"But Dean - "

"No, look, I want you to be comfortable about anything we do." A hand came down to rest atop his knee, the calluses on Dean's fingertips hooking slightly on the thin fabric. "There is no ulterior motive from my side, I just like spending time with you, however we chose to do it. What I don't like is the worry I see on your face every time we're even remotely close. If you want me to back off, I will, just say so, no harm done. If you want us to move forward, you got it, go for it. But don't put it in your head that I want stuff I haven't asked for, okay?"

Castiel nodded, pushing the voice of worry that still wanted to protest down until he could barely hear it anymore. If Dean was comfortable with what they had, then he was going to allow himself that too. Dean smiled weakly and moved to sit back against the back of the sofa, but when he tried to pull his hand back from Castiel's knee, Castiel put his own on top of it. Dean's hands had been the catalyst of releasing his emotions, and feeling the skin under his own felt like warmth and safety.

Dean's smile widened, relaxing back into watching the movie while his thumb rubbed small circles across the sharp angles of Castiel's knee. They were both on the same page. The thought calmed Castiel well enough, and maybe if he let himself relax and enjoy the things he did feel comfortable with, the rest would fall into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had this and the next chapter written out since the start. So, yeah. One more and it's done.


	5. Chapter 5

 

"Claire" Castiel sighed his niece's name in frustration. Work had been worse than ever lately, a new project was about to start and the old curator had left the system in such a disarray that their current team had to work forced overtime to re-catalogue every old item that was going back to storage. Long days meant he hadn't been able to make it home in time to pick Claire up from school, instead she'd been forced to walk the 20 minutes it took to make it home. It didn't feel good leaving a 14 year old to her own devices until late evening, but what choice did he have? He'd tried to convince her to let him hire a babysitter, but evidently the girls her age _were_ the babysitters.

He was supposed to have met Dean for a date Thursday night, but that had been impossible to make happen. That evening he'd fallen asleep in the paperwork of an old embroidery, rushing home to a dark house at 1 am. It had to stop before the coming weekend, he knew that, so he'd finished a load of paperwork at home last night, intent on leaving the actual scut work to his interns and give himself a three-day weekend off. This was the one time of the year he had to be home and had to be on time, and he thought he had been today.

But the damage seemed to have already been done. Claire was in such a foul mood she'd already slammed two doors in his face and refused to come down for dinner. Castiel felt the frustration of not knowing how to handle the situation rise to levels that washed away all his confidence.

"Please come out. We'll do whatever you want tonight. Eat whatever you'd like."

"No, go away!"

Castiel hated feeling helpless, he had always been in control of his life and his emotions, but these last few weeks had tested him so far beyond his comfort zone he feared he'd never see it again.

"Please, I'm sorry." How could parents just know how to handle situations like this? Whatever he did, despite feeling he was doing the right thing, it came back thrown in his face. Inside he screamed for Jimmy to help him, but there was no one to answer his calls.

The sharp white of her bedroom door held like a barrier between them, loud like her silence behind it. Castiel had been resting a hand on the doorknob, but refused to turn it even though he knew it wasn't locked.

"I try to do my best, Claire, but I'm just as lost as you are." He said quietly to the deafening silence.

The round metal of the doorknob turned in his hand as the door opened from the other side. Blonde hairs stuck out in the gap between the door and doorframe, framing a blue eye that eyed him with furrowed brows.

"I know what date this weekend is. I took a few days off. We'll spend it however you like, okay?"

Silence, thick and heavy with waiting, but he couldn't help hoping. If she didn't get on board with him this weekend he didn't know what to do.

"Take out. Chinese. And you need to bring dad's box of VHS-tapes out!"

"Of course." Yes. Anything. He'd do whatever she wanted if that meant they weren't slipping apart just when he needed her the most.

 

*

 

Claire had set down the law on their weekend-plans. No cell phones, no internet, no housework. And no actual work on his part. It felt like this weekend could be Halloween if he didn't already know it was a week ahead in time. It felt like the veil between supposed worlds was being stretched thin and on the verge of bursting wide open. Although they had never been in the house, he could feel his brother and sister-in-law's presence in every thought he and Claire had today. They walked past each other in rooms that felt freezing, despite the heat kicking in to shield them from the cold seeping in from outside, leaving the other to their thoughts because they couldn't be shared for fear of breaking. The Novak-household felt like it was kept on hold for an undetermined amount of time.

And so did Dean. Castiel had cancelled their date on Thursday, calling from his work-phone, sounding exhausted. He understood, really, it was hard working and taking care of a kid all on your own, more so even when the work you did started craving more attention than you could stretch across the two things. But yeah, he did feel a bit hurt that he hadn't even gotten as much as a text since then. Sam's weekends were always packed with activities Dean couldn't be a part of; friends, soccer-matches, studying, Jess.

Before he had met Cas, there had been a lot of bar-hopping. Finding friends for the night was easy, but now they'd lost their appeal. Which is why he found himself shovelling cheetos into his mouth, sunken down on the couch watching Die Hard mostly because the remote lay all the way over in the recliner. And if he had his phone resting on his thigh, checking it every other minute, then maybe he could pass it off as being bored instead of worried.

He'd already called twice, letting the seconds run by until it clicked over to the generic answering machine message Cas still kept on his phone. Dean knew he couldn't force himself on him, no matter how worried he got, the thing they had was already pushing at the other man's boundaries. But seeing the clock roll over into pm, then past dinner-time it had been 3 days without a word. He couldn't sit there anymore with it all hanging over him.

Before he could stop himself, he had set the cheetos down, brushed his sticky hands on his jeans and went to locate his car-keys.

 

*

 

The house was dark, only light on that he could see was the flickering blue of the tv in the distant living room. At least one of them were home then. The thought calmed his racing heart enough for him to knock quietly instead of the rapid succession his worry wanted to punch out. In the quiet he could hear distant foot-steps, slowly making their way to the door. It felt like it took ages before the door unlocked and opened.

"Cas." Never had Dean seen the other man look so dishevelled. His dark hair looked unwashed and unruly, spiking up at his forehead where he was used to it curling back. Red rings lined his eyes and the dark stubble scattered across his face didn't very much help with the impression, but it painted a picture of how he must have spent the last three days. Was this what work did to him? Dean's stomach tightened with worry and a need to make right.

"Dean." Castiel's eyes looked so vivid compared to the drab colour of his skin, and god, he had missed looking into them. "What are you doing here?"

"I got worried man, you're not answering your phone."

"Oh" He looked behind himself, as if he was going to start searching for his phone but gave up and turned back to him in the doorway."Claire banned me from using it."

"She did?" Dean's eyebrows raised.

"Yes, its - " Castiel shifted his naked feet on the itchy-looking carpet and hurt not at all associated with physicality shot across his pitiful face. "Her parents died 2 years ago today."

Dean inhaled a sharp breath into his lungs. God, he was so stupid, he should have known that, but he was so bad with dates and time and he felt like the worst kind of boyfriend. "Oh my god, I'm sorry Cas. I should probably - I should leave you guys to each other. It's a tough day and I shouldn't - Yeah, I should go pick up Sammy or something."

"Dean." Dean halted halfway through turning around, because Cas sounded so terribly small saying his name like that. Like Sam did when he tried to fight the tears.

"Yeah?"

"I - I'm sorry I didn't call." Eyes stark blue and wide open, arms dangling limp at his sides, stuffed into an old faded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants Dean was fairly sure was his, Cas looked so pitiful he could barely stand knowing he had been like this all weekend.

"That's okay, I get it." He did, really. He still had a hard time himself whenever the anniversary of the fire rolled around, but only Sammy had ever seen the dip in his mood and understood it. It wasn't easy to mourn when you always had to keep moving on, so when you finally let yourself feel it all, it overwhelmed and petrified you with its strength.

"No, I-  I thought we should get through it on our own, you know? We did before we had anyone else. "

Dean nodded, he knew very well how not trusting anyone felt. It was you two against the world and you had to prove everyone wrong to even make it through the things you had to do on a daily basis. But Cas had always seemed so strong, his convictions so perfectly thought out and seeing him apologizing, it was a completely new side to learn. It felt like another huge step towards something.

"Would you come in? I think I'd like it if you stayed."

Dean's heart stumbled, he wanted to kiss Cas, wrap his arms around him and hug him until the hurt was perfectly gone and there was nothing written on his face but the lines of laughter. But their relationship wasn't dictated by him and what he yearned for in the moment, it was a field of wrong-turns and brick walls, but it was beautiful when he found the right way. When he was allowed to stroke a hand over the soft curls of Cas' hair and hold him close on the sofa while they both ignored the TV in the background, then heaven was right there within grasp.

Walking back up the steps, he needn't have worried. When the door closed behind him and the dark of the hallway swallowed them up, Castiel's arms came to wrap around his neck. The grip was hard, pulling them so close together Dean could feel the way Castiel's heart was hammering under his shirt. Dean let his own arms close around Castel's back, rubbing gently to soothe both of their worries. Where Castiel needed space to be comfortable, Dean had always needed physical touch to feel alive and in any way connected to the world. When long fingers started tracing patterns across his neck, he felt more alive than he'd been in days.

Minutes must have fleeted by in their cocoon of darkness and touch, the TV grew quiet in the background but none of them really heard it change. They didn't even hear the shy tapper of feet coming closer to them. Not before Dean felt a tug on his arm, did he see another set of blue eyes, wet with tears looking up at him. Without a hesitation, he pulled Claire into his side, holding on to her just as hard as to Cas.

Had he been told months ago that he was going to find a family just as broken as his own, and that he was going to love them just as much as he did Sam, he would have laughed at the impossibility. But when he felt one of Cas' arm release his neck and pull Claire in to the space between them, the hiccoughs of her crying felt like his responsibility as well. And if they let him, he would hold them like this every year.

 

*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I end this. For now at least. I have more ideas, so there might be updates/timestamps in the future. Thanks to everyone who's read this far and given kudos. I wouldn't have written any of this without you.


End file.
